


You Will Never Be Satisfied

by crimsonseekers



Series: Prescription [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Everybody wants prowl, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, and they’re all jealous that Huffer gets him, thats it, thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonseekers/pseuds/crimsonseekers
Summary: Huffer gets a “prescription” from Ratchet to interface more. Prowl helps him fill it, and many residents of the Ark are none-too-pleased with the turn of events.
Relationships: Huffer/Prowl, one-sided Everyone/Prowl
Series: Prescription [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678048
Comments: 20
Kudos: 94





	You Will Never Be Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fascinationex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In Deed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22691932) by [fascinationex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex). 



“Prowl,” Cliffjumper muttered into the table forlornly. “Huffer gets to frag _Prowl.”_

“Seven times a week,” Gears added. “Ratchet sanctioned n’ all.”

Jazz simply made a weak, distressed sound from where he was sprawled on the floor - Sideswipe was snickering and patting him half-heartedly on the back with his pede.

“You only have yourself to blame for this, m’ mech,” Blaster said, a small smirk on his face as he sipped his energon cube smugly. “You’re the one who suggested that Huffer might not be ‘utilizing his pleasure circuitry’ enough.”

“But I didn’t think that meant he’d get to frag _Prowl,”_ Jazz whined, slapping his palm on the floor like an insolent sparkling.

“You know Huffer, and you know Prowl wouldn’t give him that news without making sure he was able to do so.”

“Thought he’d just have to service ‘imself or somethin’.”

“Huffer probably wouldn’t be the way he is if that were the solution.”

Jazz made another low whining noise with both his vocalizer and engine and seemed to sink even lower into the floor. Sideswipe cackled.

“Listen,” Blaster said tiredly, gazing on the pathetic group of lamenting mechs (and Sideswipe). “If you want to ‘face Prowl that badly, just _ask_ him. He’ll agree because it ‘keeps up morale’ or something stupid like that. “

“You want me to go up to Prowl and just casually ask him if he wants to frag after his shift or somethin’?” Jazz asked, finally turning his head from his face plant into the floor to stare at Blaster blankly.

“Yeah? I mean, that’s what he did to Huffer, and that’s what you usually do to everyone else.”

“Mech, think real hard for a moment about what directly propositioning Prowl would be like,” Jazz muttered, turning back to stare longingly at the floor as if his stare would cause it to open up and swallow his existence whole. “Wasn’t even sure the mech knew what interfacing was until yesterday.”

“You told him to offer.”

“I didn’t think he’d do it!”

“You should’ve.”

Jazz made another distressed noise deep in the back of his intake and sank back into the floor as Sideswipe’s pede patted his shoulder comfortingly.

* * *

“I can hear them,” Gears announced as soon as he walked into the rec room. “I walked past Huffer’s quarters and I can _hear_ them.”

“Settle a bet for me,” Sideswipe called across the suddenly attentive room. “Does Huffer complain even when he’s fragging the hot Praxian?”

Smokescreen let out an offended huff from across the table, but let the matter slide.

“Oh, you bet he does,” Gears lamented. “‘Move your hips a little lower, would you?’ and ‘Stop shifting around, it’s distracting.’ Or my personal favorite, when he started complaining about his hip joint. Could hear ‘im all the way down the hallway - not quiet at all.”

“Only Huffer would complain about getting to frag Prowl,” Cliffjumper muttered as Smokescreen scowled and rifled through his subspace, handing a cube of high grade to a smirking Sideswipe.

“Lucky fragger,” Gears said sullenly. “Doesn’t even realize it.”

* * *

“Holy _shit,_ you guys won’t believe this,” Cliffjumper shouted as he barrelled into the rec room. “Walkin’ past Huffer’s quarters, and between all the complaints I swear to Primus I heard Prowl _moan.”_

“No,” Sideswipe said, placing his hands firmly over his audios. “Nope nope nope, nada, not hearing it.”

“Sides, we’ve been talking about Prowl interfacing first the past three weeks, and now you’re complaining?” Jazz snarked from the next table over.

“No, we were talking about _Huffer_ interfacing. Don’t need to imagine the mech who sends me to brig being capable of any carnal desires, I’m not having it.”

“‘Carnal desires,’” Ratchet repeated mockingly. “Finally decided to expand your vocabulary?”

“No, he’s still an idiot,” Sunstreaker said, not looking up from where he was polishing his calf to a mirror shine.

“No, we’re missing the important information here,” Cliffjumper said, striding up to the table and hopping on a chair so he was at the correct height to at least somewhat-loom over his comrades. “This means that either Prowl is starting to _enjoy_ it, or that Huffer is actually _good_ at interfacing and none of us noticed until now.”

Probably because they all started to avoid that particular area of the Ark after a few too many uncomfortable walks past clangs and complaints.

“If Prowl gets into Huffer, the rest of us will never get a chance with him!” Gears moaned, dropping his head to the table with a _thump._

“A’ight, that’s it, mechs,” Jazz announced, standing up dramatically and striding to over to stand next to Cliffjumper. “We gotta do something ‘bout this, otherwise none of us’ll get a chance.”

“What can we do?” Gears muttered sullenly into the table. “Prowl’s only interfacing with him ‘cause Ratchet thinks a few good frags will cure whatever chronic depression he has goin’ on.”

“Getting to frag Prowl seven times a week would do wonders for any of us,” Jazz retorted.

Sideswipe made a muffled shrieking noise as he slammed his head into the table. “Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it,” he mumbled to himself repeatedly.

“Any of us minus Sides,” the saboteur amended.

“So how do we convince Prowl to ‘face any of us?”

“Only one of us anywhere near miserable enough to get Ratch to get ‘em some pity frags from Prowl is Gears.”

The mech in question perked up for a small, brief moment.

“Not happening,” Ratchet snapper. “Huffer’s a special case, the rest of you are perfectly capable of fragging each other if it’s such an issue.”

“Ugh.”

_Thump._

Heads slammed into tables in unison.

* * *

Prowl felt his engine hiccup as Huffer continued to roll his hips against him.

“Shift it left, wouldja?” Huffer muttered grumpily. Prowl bit back a slight moan that attempted to claw its way free from his vocalizer, and complied, squeaking as the minibot didn’t falter in his thrusts even as he moved, dragging _wonderfully_ against a line of nodes in his valve and- 

_“Hahhh,”_ Prowl moaned breathily, dragging his arms up to cover his flushed face as his helm fell back, mouth falling open to vent helplessly.

Huffer spread his palms over the broad expanse of Prowl’s doorwings, curling his fingers over their top edge and tugging on them as he used them as leverage to continue bucking into Prowl. His doorwings beat uselessly against the berth and Huffer’s hand, the slight pull and pressure on his hinges sending overpowering waves of pleasure across his neural net, and Huffer shifted his angle and his spike rammed against an untouched cluster of nodes and-

Prowl overloaded with a shriek, legs wrapping around Huffer’s waist locking him against the tactician as he ground his hips, calipers cycling down ruthlessly on the minibot's spike.

Huffer grunted and bucked against Prowl as much as the cage of Prowl’s legs allowed, and his pelvic plating pressed right against Prowl’s anterior node.

Prowl sobbed as his overload rolled right into a second one, heightened by the feeling of warmth deep within his array that Huffer’s own overload brought.

The SIC shivered as Huffer panted over him, the slight shifting of his hips causing his plating to rub against his anterior node, sending sharp - _too sharp_ \- jolts of pleasure up his strut.

He tapped the minibot's shoulder, who simply grunted and scowled at him, but slowly drew out nevertheless.

Prowl whimpered at the drag, and flinched as he felt Huffer’s transfluid drip slowly out of his valve and onto the berth.

“Hmph,” Huffer huffed as he snapped his covers back in place. “C’mon,” he said, easing his grip on Prowl’s doorwings in favor of wrapping his arms around the tactician's waist and propping him up. “Gotta get you to the wash racks, you’re dripping all over my berth.”

“Apologies,” Prowl said after a moment, shakily moving to stand up himself, though Huffer’s steadying arm stayed at the small of his back, as well as the miserable scowl. “I do not mean to cause you any inconvenience.”

“Tch.” Huffer started leading him out of his quarters and towards the wash racks. “Sooner you’re clean and out of my sights, the sooner this ‘inconvenience’ is over with.”

* * *

Prowl cycled his optics as he approached his office, paint transfers and scuffs gone from his plating after Huffer had offered to help buff them out (in a somewhat backhanded way, but the offer was appreciated nonetheless).

“Is there a problem?” he asked after a moment, not exactly expecting the usually deserted tactical hub outside his office to be filled with mecha lined up outside his door.

“Listen, Prowler,” Jazz said, a suave smirk in his face. “Morales been a bit down lately, and we have an idea on how to get it back up.”

“A good frag is proven to improve _anyone’s_ mood,” Cliffjumper added.

“Just look at Huffer,” Gears agreed.

“So we were wonderin’ if you’d be up for a few rounds in the name of morale?” Jazz said, slinking over to lay his arm across Prowl’s shoulders slyly.

“Is there a problem with your interfacing array as it is?” Prowl asked them bluntly. “You should perhaps go see Ratchet in that case.”

“Wha-“ Jazz sputtered, taking several steps back.

“What makes you think there’s anything wrong with me?” Cliffjumper demanded angrily. “‘M working just fine!”

“Then I do not see the issue,” Prowl stated, walked forward and through the crowd of mecha to reach his door. “You are all perfectly capable of finding interface partners without my assistance, then. You are grown and matured mecha who I know are able to find their own interface partner without me. As it stands, my current offer only extends to Huffer.”

Prowl opened his office door, stepped inside, and glanced back at the affronted looks on the faces of the Autobots outside his office.

“Good orn,” he said simply, shutting his office door.

**Author's Note:**

> me and fascinationex are going down to puffer hell together


End file.
